


Roots

by Lunar_Berry



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern Gothic au, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunar_Berry/pseuds/Lunar_Berry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A demon. A Werewolf. A witch. Pulled together in the most unique of situations, the trio find themselves thrown into a dark spiral of death, fear, and lust. Their tale will never have a happy ending, but surely the 3 will remember for the rest - and for all - of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A tale of three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 different stories of 3 men who's fates are ultimately destined to combine, though love can't blossom without strife, has it ever?

## Bathed in moonlight

Of all the things Ross Hornby would have thought were happening, profusely bleeding in a grimy jet black forest an night was certainly not one of them.  
Let’s rewind though, to when his day started.  
As usual, he had gotten up and, being his day off, Ross had decided to just walk through the local park. Well, after the clock had passed 1PM and he had finally dragged himself out of his lusciously warm covers. He liked to watch the dogs there, with their owners, running and playing and interacting with each other and though he so badly wanted a dog to call his own his current pay check just wasn’t going to cut it. What had intrigued him though was the unnaturally large, majestic yet threatening dog that border lined on the characteristics of a wolf. Looking closely, Ross could tell that the dog-wolf was a deep grey which simmered down to black paws while the beast had a pure white snout. It all seemed very strange but Ross shook it off because as he looked to a golden Labrador catching a Frisbee mid-air, the small woods which fringed the large park were now dog-wolf-less.  
“ _Heh, dog-wolf-less._ ”  
Putting it down to last night’s nearly all-nighter, Ross messed around on his phone for a bit then got up to go home while the various dogs and owners filtered out of the park for the day while the sun burned gold into the evening sky.  
And, as usual, Ross would have just walked home if it hadn’t been for that deep grey dog-wolf again.  
He could’ve sworn that he saw it in his peripheral vision, just to his right as he went to leave the park. So again, Ross found himself staring at this overly large creature and felt his thoughts almost swimming before the creature’s eyes broke from Ross’s and it turned away. An almost instinctual feeling swept over Ross and he took one step towards the beast but stopped himself.  
“ _Why the fuck am I even doing this? I should be back home…”_ He grumbled to himself, turning away to walk down the path that lead out of the now deserted park.  
As the last of the light started to trickle away Ross trudged through the streets which began to fill with local night-lifers, old drunk men stumbling home from one too many in the afternoon, young party goers who walked with over joyed enthusiasm to seedy night clubs and sometimes a group of older women out for a ‘girls night!’ serenaded with woops and mildly sexual jokes which of course Ross had to break a smile at. It felt natural to him, to walk and not be noticed, like he had really always wanted in his life. He had always been much of an observer anyway, always watching and preferring not to get too involved in any one conversation so it struck him odd that he had taken a wrong turn.  
Well, he must have, he didn’t even recognise where he was.  
“ _Ah shit, better back track.”_ He sighed to himself and stuck his hands into his pockets as he turned around.  
However, once Ross had turned and walked back in the general direction from where he came he arrived back at the expansive park, and there was the dog-wolf.  
A quick glance around showed he was alone, so instead of going to the creature he took the correct exit from the park and began the walk home. His tiredness was really getting to him as he kept thinking he saw a dark shadow at the edge of his vision but he put it down to a trick of the light. He could see his small cottage now so he hurried along until a _crunch_ echoed from behind him and a sharp pain hit the back of his head…then darkness.

 

Ross’s eyes fluttered open sometime later, his head fuzzy and his stomach churning. He coughed, his lungs were like a dead weight, and sniffed as he came to.  
“ _…Wet dog?”_ Ross thought, as he registered what the awful smell was. Moving himself to a sitting position, his head throbbed.  
“What the…fuck…” He gasped, immediately grabbing his head while he supported himself with his free arm. Looking around him, all the people and the night life was…gone.  
“What…the?” Was all he could gasp as he tried to stand up – he only fell back down with a hiss as his head spun again.  
“If this is some sick joke I fucking swear to _God_ …” Ross threatened, but only the last sigh of the crickets heard him. Ross tried to get up again, this time successfully, and he turned on the spot while he surveyed the place around him.  
He was stood in a piny forest, small rocks and pinecones littered the floor as well as dead pines and a few wilting wine red flowers. The towering pine trees that surrounded him were bare until about halfway up the tree, then they sprouted into bursts of dark green and brown. The air around him was frigid, his breath clouding out in front of him while fog creeped at the clearing’s edge, lit by the pale gossamer moonlight from above him.  
He knew trying to get out was a pretty fruitless idea – he could just be walking further into the wilderness but it was his only safe decision, moving would stop a potentially fatal hypothermia situation. Well, hopefully stop it anyway. He rubbed his arms a little to try and keep warm but in the end he shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind.  
So, picking a random direction, Ross stumbled a little as his head clear before walking somewhat decently into the dark forest, choosing to go left out of the clearing. The only sound he could hear was the crunch of decayed pines breaking as he walked and his own laboured breathed as his heart started to beat a little more rapidly while his fingers became clammy and he jumped at every small snap underneath his feet.  
“It’s stupid,” He mumbled to himself, “To be afraid of the woods. Nothing like a wild bear exists in England the worst I’ll find is a fox…they don’t attack…it’ll just run…fuck.”  
Soon Ross noticed the trees around him grew thicker and a sea of moss flowed beneath his feet, dark bluebells and branches occasionally hit him as he walked and soon the feeling of hopelessness began to set in. An owl flitted overhead, jolting Ross’s head up to look at the unnaturally large, full porcelain moon bearing down onto the earth. He took in a shaky, steady breath, and walked on.  
He carried on like this for a good while before he stopped walking for a second to catch his breath and he heard a _crunch_ behind him. He didn’t want to turn around, his heart was a painful block in his chest and his veins were turning to ice, his breathing stopped and he shivered as the cold air seeped into his skin.  
“ _Just an owl…or a fox…”_ He thought, and he turned slowly just to check.  
The dog-wolf. The charcoal grey – _definitely a wolf –_ was stood just metres in front of Ross, silently, almost as if waiting patiently for something. Its dark eyes blinked slowly but Ross was frozen in pure terror. The thing was nearly as tall as him, give or take a few inches, and as it slowly padded towards him, it’s eyes blank and threatening, Ross finally found his feet and he stumbled back, almost falling until his back caught a tree.  
“ _Oh thank fuck. Wait – no!_ ” Ross internally shouted at himself for being backed by a tree of all things and as the wolf approached it started to bear its pointed yellowed fangs, like barbed wire in the thing’s mouth. A low, dark, grumble filled the air as it leant back, drawing itself to pounce, but painstakingly slowly which only made Ross tremble even more – he daren’t take his eyes from the feral beast.  
A pause. A whimper. A snarl.  
Then it launched itself at Ross who only just ducked to the right in time, rolling up on his feet only to leap aside again as the beast jumped for another attack. Grabbing a fallen branch as he stood, Ross whirled with his pathetic weapon – “ _A weapon all the same._ ” – And shouted,  
“Fuck off! Leave! Arhhhh!”  
In an attempt to scare it away but the thing looked as though it was laughing, its snout pulling up and it ran forwards with blinding speed but this time Ross didn’t move fast enough and the wolf sank its teeth into Ross’s arm, pulling him down to the ground like a rag doll.  
Ross screamed as a searing pain ripped through his arm and he only had enough sense to jab the branch into the wolf’s eye before his vision swirled. He felt the beast’s teeth sink into his leg this time and again Ross used the branch to lever the wolf’s jaw and a spine shuddering _snap_ echoed through the fogged forest. Looking up, Ross saw the snapped branch and a blooded tooth, gum still attached, in a small pool of thick dark blood.  
Looking down, his own head swirled as he saw his mottled and ripped flesh, bile rising in his throat as crimson trailed cascaded down his arm and with one last “ _fuck…”_   Ross fell to the ground unconscious.

## Crimson flames and silver scythes

“Jump, duck, and _then_ strike you fool!”  
“ _I would if you would shut up and stop distracting me!”_ Trott seethed in his mind, swinging _Chaos Soul_ , his weapon of choice, around his neck. He used the energy to roll himself sideways and doge the Hellhound that snarled and pounced at him, instead kicking himself into the air with a flick of his scythe then used a small glyph to spin himself around, slicing the hound into 2 clean chunks that flopped to the floor. Trott landed with barely a shift in weight,  
“Congratulations, you didn’t die.” His instructor said mockingly, “Next time I might even put _two_ Hellhounds in the pit with you.”  
“Do that and I’ll kill them both in less time than it takes for you to cum – two minutes, that is.” Trott said clearly, with a dark smile.  
“I’d have you chained to souls for that.” Lewis threatened, his skin tinged pink while his eyes flashed red.  
“Well, we only have to speak to your human pet – what was it? Oh yeah, Hannah.” Trott drawled, smirking as Lewis jumped from the stands to the dry cracked stone of the pit.  
“You’ll speak nothing of her.”  
“Sure, sure,” Trott said with a blasé attitude as he waved Lewis away. “Wonder what the Lord Daev would say…”  
“You’re walking on thin ice, _friend.”_ Lewis warned, lifting himself back into his stand.  
“Literally, physically, or figuratively ‘cos mate, we’re in Hell, if you haven’t-”  
“Noticed, yeah, yeah, well. I’m sending in a Cherufe, don’t let it do too much damage will you?” Lewis sighed, cutting their conversation, so Trott nodded then turned to where the ground gate was slowly creaking open, the screech of metal on rock ringing ear-piercingly clear.  
The humanoid lava and rock monster crawled from the gates, red hot charred rocks falling from its body to the floor and its crimson eyes blazed as it locked onto Trott.  
“Many misconceptions run around these creatures.” Lewis lectured as Trott circled it, blocking a rock thrown at him with his scythe, “People think they’re pretty much indestructible, but of course they are not.” Trott chained a first attack by jumping and slicing off an arm and taking a leg in the same sweep. “And, oh how cliché, the only way to kill one is to behead it,” The thing warped itself back into a humanoid form, the arm and leg melting the blistered rock around Trott’s feet. “Please, hurry and kill it the lava takes so long to clean.” Silently, with confidence and concentration, Trott summoned a violet glyph, the symbols rotating in place as he prepared his final attack, then he ran and leapt, rolling and tugging his scythe into a sweeping up cut under the beast’s neck, the glowing blade slicing through the rock with ease. One mistake though, was the lava which was now spilling everywhere due to the monster’s death and the overwhelming burn crawled into Trott’s bones.  
“Shit! Fucking hell.” Trott grimaced, brushing off the molten liquid as a few low rank demons rushed into the pit to clean the mess.  
“Could’ve been better but it’s only you so I know when to expect less.”  
“Nah mate, I’m positively stunning.” Trott said in a monotonous tone, _Chaos Soul_ resting on his shoulder as he jumped out of the pit. “See you tomorrow, Brindley.”  
“Yeah, yeah…” Lewis said, rolling his eyes as he turned to yell at the lower demons who obviously weren’t doing their job right.  
Trott walked to the edge of the stadium and swung his legs over the balcony to drop back down onto the main pathway. Already there was some Ember vines lining the paths and the chipped marble had seen many better days. As Trott walked to his home he passed one of many soul stores, a quick glance in always made him grin. The screams of torture were truly symphonies to the ear, however, he couldn’t stall, not today. He had far too many duties to deal with and the first on the list was to pay his soul debt to the woman who gave him his glyph books.  
“2 fresh souls for 10 glyph books what a fucking bargain.” He muttered to himself as he snagged two souls, dragging their chains so they tumbled on the floor and their shrieks grew in volume. Soon he had reached the book owner’s store.  
“Trott! Thanks for the souls but I’m super busy so I can’t stay and talk, sorry, bye!” The small, dark demon shouted as she shot out from the shop, slamming it shut with her foot as her hands were preoccupied with a stack of heavy looking books.  
“Okay? Uhh, see you soon, Kim, I guess.”  
“Byeee!” She shouted energetically, and almost slammed into a demon who she promptly began to shout at. With a shrug, Trott turned and left for his home to drop off his scythe – he wouldn’t need it were he was going next. The archives. As a demon he took pride in his contracts with oblivious humans and it just so happened that today was a collection day. He entered the Archive, a sprawling construct full of contracts from every demon alike. Sifting through file after file, Trott found the one he needed and returned to the entrance. They had podiums there, made of gold and fire, which allowed quick access to souls that needed collecting rather than reaping. This certain soul holder was called ‘Fyre’ and that was all that was listed. The funny thing was, this soul holder wasn’t a human, he was a werewolf. In an instant Trott was by the werewolf’s side.  
“Fyre…you’ve got something I need.” Trott grinned, looking on as Fyre gulped and smiled.  
“I – I did what you said I had to do you know, I created another werewolf, I think the guy’s dead anyway, can’t I just maybe keep-”  
“No. Light out honey pie.” Trott said, cutting to the chase of today. He’d rather not play silly games for the time being. He summoned his sacrificial knife, a glistening ruby red knife and floated down to seize the werewolf’s throat then he spilt the man’s blood and smiled as the blue orb that was his soul floated from the man’s blood to congeal from wisps of life essence.  
Trott smiled to himself, then went back to hell and back to his simple, daily life. Oh how he wished it would change, just a little bit.

 

Trott walked into his small home and flopped down onto his sofa, almost, but narrowly missing catching his horns on the armrest. He lifted a book – ‘ _The arts of Darkness: A look into shadow magic’_ – and levitated it, flipping the pages past many dog-ear creases until he got back to the section titled ‘External attacks’ and settled down for a long read.  
Every so often he would turn a page and the only sounds that broke the silence were either the shuffle of paper or the occasional dying shrieks of a soul. Even the usual soothing background noise of constant crackling fire couldn’t bother him and Trott relaxed further, his tail scraping the seared floor in a steady rhythm. Soon he progressed to ‘Rituals’ and the first on the page was ‘Runic immortality’.  
“ _Several types of immortality exist. For simplification this chapter is split into: Semi-Immortality, Reliant Immortality, Possessive Immortality and Absolute Immortality.”_  
“Immortality huh…” As for Trott, he was already immortal and had clocked on a good few years. 1,926, to be exact. However, creating an immortal individual fated to never die, that sounded fun. He lazily flicked the pages until the section, ‘ _Absolute Immortality’_ and for no reason other than amusement he began to read aloud.  
“Absolute immortality grants the bearer an immunity to all illness, and immunity to aging, and the ability to self-resurrect. In the binding, the bearer’s soul, the body, and the mind are bound together creating a loop in which not even death can conquer. If, in the event of severe mutilation, the body is wounded to perceivable ‘death’ the bearer of immortality will enter a comatose state in which self-resurrection can occur.”  
“ _Sounds like something that would drive a normal human crazy, watching their friends and family die as they don’t age a day…”_  
“However, the bearer is rendered infertile (if the bearer is able to reproduce) and changing physical features include runic symbols on the bearer’s body, and specifically and unpredictable change in the bearer’s eyes which is subject to the individual and their state of immortality. Bearers can also descend into madness due to boredom or other factors of immortal life.  
“This spell can be cast onto any living creature – for resurrection seek further into the chapter or Necromancy.”  
Trott flicked the book down onto the small table beside him, open on the page he had just read and a small wry smile crossed his face. All he needed now was a victim.

## Infused with gold in veins of wicca

To Alex Smith, being a witch wasn’t as simple as his mother had made it out to be. Books upon books written in High Latin from everything to anything including extensive knowledge on…  
“Plants! Why plants, if I’m going to make ceremonies and practise transmutation, why do I need plants! I have Alchemy, that’s all I’ll ever need!” Alex complained, flipping the old crusted pages in a worn leather botany book. He would much rather be sticking his head into his Alchemy book, but apparently it was just a little ‘too dark’ for his mother’s liking.  
“You, young man, will learn everything I tell you to. You’ll need _everything_ in life, I’ll tell you that much.” His mother said, her dull but deep cerulean eyes flicking up to bore into him until he gave in and began to read aloud again, translating Latin to English as he did so while his mother pressed Belladonna leaves.  
“ _The Black Henbane, or Black Nightshade, is a highly toxic plant that can be used to induce a delirious state in the recipient, impaired vision, convulsions, comas, heart failure, respiratory failure and death. It must be used with great caution.”_  
“Hmmm. Tell me Alex, can it be used for say, headaches?”  
“Ermm…yeah, if you crush oil from the seeds and massage the oil lightly onto the forehead.” He replied, eyes scanning the page and easily finding his answer.  
“I would say cut and strain more than crush, but you are right. Can it be used to alleviate severe stomach pain?” She asked, placing one dry press on an already prepared shelf by the window.  
“Yes…wait no, not severe stomach pain. It can only be used in small quantities and the amount you would need for severe stomach pains would kill you.” Alex replied, his thumb tracing the intricate drawing of the plant on the side of the page as he read, their stems lining as a border for the text.  
“Exactly, good in small amounts yet fatal in any other case. It’s only best to use that externally. Now, we have some Henbane growing I believe, a few plants should have matured by now. Shall we extract some oil?”  
“Sure, I go get ‘em.” Alex said with a smile, thankful that he could shut that god-awful book and be done with it. He grabbed a woven basket on his way out, breathing in the clear air of the outside.  
He had always loved their small little garden, it was overgrown in the most beautiful way, the pond lined with lilies that housed Aloe Vera and Lobelia, the masses of Witch-Hazel that lined the stone brick walls of their garden, towering Rowan trees, Hawthorn, and Elder tress which let golden filtered sunlight through in a cool, tepid air. The glass greenhouse at the end of their garden was adorned with ivy, leaves like scales protecting the germinating seeds inside.  
Kneeling down by the Henbane which was growing happily by some Spanish Moss, Alex took out his stone knife and carefully cut the plant by the bottom of the stem and laid the plants carefully in the basket. He circled round, making sure to not take out huge chunks so that the soil had time to regain lost nutrients. He had always admired the washed out golden petals and the way they seemed to glitter like a crown in the shaded haven of their garden, Looking at their house for a second, Alex studied the worn but sturdy stone and however much he pretended not to be interested in witchcraft it seemed to run wild in his veins, however, alchemy was more his thing. Though his mother didn’t really approve it didn’t stop him from buying the book he wanted and reading them cover to cover several times. However, practising Alchemy was probably going to push it so he instead devoted most of his practical energies to the green arts.  
Picking up the basket, he walked back to the house and thought of all the healing potions he and his mother had made for the locals. In such a modern age he would’ve thought that people would call their crafts silly but once an old woman had been cured of her relentless warts with a bit of Witch Hazel the locals always seemed happy enough to pay for the ointments Alex and his mother made. Anyway, they grew their own vegetables to sell which carried them enough money and food, their business had always prospered in the far out village they lived in. Even the local farmer traded meats for ointments and vegetables.  
“Alex honey, you got the plants?”  
“Yeah, I’ll just be a sec.” He shouted back, pulling himself out of his daydream. The garden had always had that effect on him, or maybe it was just his mind’s tendency to constantly wander.  
“Ah, good.” She said once he walked in, “You start pressing and I’ll go start making our tea.”  
“Sure!” Alex said with a grin, already pulling the petals off the plants gently and placing them in a pile. Next was the leaves from the stem, and he stripped them quietly with ease. He had always found the methodical pressing to be very relaxing and once he had full stemmed the plants he placed the stems in a glass jar of water to sit in a shaded corner for the time being while he pressed the petals and leaves. Arranging the leaves to press, he screwed the presses shut and placed them in direct sunlight on the bench then began to wipe up the juices from the table. Once done, he grabbed up the Belladonna presses his mother had made and placed them beside the Henbanes then picked up his favourite 3 Alchemy books and set himself outside in the shade of an Elder tree to read.  
The steady tweets of birds ahead, low buzz of flies among other winged creatures alike over the pond, the windless cool air – everything that made a perfect day, in Alex’s eyes. Instead of continuing reading ‘A study of the Aspects of our realm he decided he would just doze instead, letting the world around him calm him until he heard a high pitched and blood curdling scream from his mother.  
“Alex! Alex, help!”  
“Mum?” He shouted, racing into the kitchen where his mother was held and bleeding from her neck – a man dressed in black, tall with blonde hair and manic eyes.  
“Mum!”  
“She’s dead, and so are you!” The man cried, tossing his mum to the side and lunging for Alex, but Alex easily stepped to the side and grabbed the knife his mother had used from the kitchen worktop and he swirled around.   
“What did you do this for?” Alex shouted, ducking a punch from the man.   
“She killed my daughter!”  
“What?” Alex cried, jumping out of the way of the man’s knife which whistled past Alex’s hair.  
“That oil, she fucking died because of it!”  
“ _Oil? The…dark leaves…yellow petals…Henbane! We gave her Henbane not Mugwort oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!”_ Alex thought, “ _The oil is so fucking similar!”_  
“Look, there’s no need to-“  
“Shut the fuck up, this is what you freaks deserve!” The man screamed, trying to grab Alex who slashed with his own knife, spinning on the spot to turn to the man.  
The man however had already turned and landed a punch straight to Alex’s head, but with blurry vision Alex thrust with the knife blindly and smiled when he felt it sink into the man, grinned even more when he heard the man grunt. Alex lifted the knife and stabbed again, this time the man’s neck, and the attacker staggered out of the door. But he was gone.  
Turning, Alex dropped the knife and knelt by his mother in an attempt the stop the bleeding from her neck but the floor had now turned wine red and her skin was mottled.  
“Alex…promise me you’ll be a good witch.”  
“Please don’t go, I need you!” Alex cried, tears freely falling down his cheeks. “I’m gonna fix you okay? I can-I can make it better I-”  
“Honey, shush it’s okay. Listen to me. Be a good witch, study, help others always, okay?”  
“Mum….I promise. Please-”  
“I love you with all my heart and soul Alex…I’ll always….watch you…I prom-” But her words cut short.  
With a strangled cry Alex held his mother, her still warm skin, her dead blue eyes, and her pale blonde hair still shining.   
“I love you with all my heart and soul too.” He whispered, his eyes falling close as he rocked her while his cries painted the evening with sorrow.


	2. Equlibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two unite in a seemingly fortunate encounter while our beloved witch struggles to cope with the loss of his last family member.

## Pity is only a weakness

Trott first knew that he needed many elements for the ritual he was going to do, the list in the book seemed endless. First on the list was a whole host of aspects, which wasn’t incredibly hard to obtain but it would just be a chore.   
“First, Alienis, I can just melt up some Louck weed… Auram…Cognito…” Trott mused to himself, jotting the words down of a spare piece of parchment so he could take them around with him instead of having to carry the whole book with him, now _that_ would raise some eyebrows.   
“I can get Spiritus pretty easily…Tenebrae…Ignis…”  
With a small resigned sigh, Trott picked up the 15 total phials for each aspect he needed and put them in his satchel that he usually used for carrying around souls, then he left in search for everything he required. As he had predicted most of the aspects were easily gotten, using alumentum to force-burn the substances he needed wasn’t the _safest_ idea but Trott was impatient and safety was the last thing on his mind.   
“And finally…” He mumbled, “Examinis. The undead, I can just burn one of those fuckers down there.” He peered into one of the many human pits and levitated one of the unlucky souls from their chains, an almost deceptive young child who screamed and writhed until Trott silenced the mutated boy.  
“So noisy, and utterly disrespectful.” He said indignantly, before flicking the last of his alumentum onto his body, grinning darkly as the child’s limbs were encased with frightful purples flames, licking his arms and torso as he became charred before Trott’s eyes. Trott held up the last, empty crystal phial and drained of the Examins from his corpse using his runic iron dagger, leaving everything else to filter off into the air.   
“Some poor hellhound can eat that.” He said, letting the corpse fall to the floor with a flat _thud_.  
He teleported himself back home, not wanting to gain too much attention to what he was doing, and he examined the book once more.   
“Infused Bloodfire tallow candles, a human sacrifice, bottled darkness, bottled destruction, and a receptacle. Eh, won’t take too long I guess.” He said, “I can get the bottles from Kim’s shop now.”  
And so he went out again, half walking, half floating, to Kim’s shop. From outside the wooden (yet impossibly fireproof) shop with its dusted windows and low, candle lit décor was the definition of magic. The door bell rung merrily when he entered and the fiery lava nymph greeted him cheerily.   
“Hey Trott, how you doing?”  
“Pretty good, ‘bout yourself?” He replied with a smile.   
“Eh, so-so, I had a problem yesterday with this lowling demon – she didn’t pay her debts. Got enough from her though.” Kim said with grin, looking to a newly stocked shelf of various bottles and candles. Trott ignored that in favour of ignorance.    
“Candles?”  
“Oh yeah, I’m trying out a new line of business, they’re tallow candles. Took me a while to get them too, had to kill _so_ many animals for ‘em.”  
“Oh. How much for all of them?” Trott asked, pacing up to the shelf. He counted 47 candles.   
“ _All_ of them?”  
“Yep. Are they infused?”  
“No, they’re just plain ones. I’ll sell all of them for…say, 100 silver mammon?”  
“100…seems reasonable. Also I need bottled darkness and bottled destruction, if you have any of that.”  
“I do…what do you need all of these for?”  
“Just a ritual.”  
“Sure.” She said, narrowing her eyes, “Just a ritual.”  
“I’m being honest!”  
“Okay, okay!” She laughed, walking up to a shelf with various bottles. “Darkness and…destruction…”  
“Yep, I’ll take the candles home now while you get those, if you don’t mind.”  
“Yeah,” She said, waving him off, “It’s cool.”  
Trott raised his hands and placed lifting glyphs underneath the candles then dropped them off back at his little home. He picked up some extra mammon just in case, then went back to where Kim was behind the counter with the two bottles.   
“Thanks, Kim.” Trott said with a polite smile as he handed over the first of the money.   
“It’ll just be 40 for each of the bottles, and no probs, Trott. If anything you’re my best customer.”  
“Best and not favourite?” He whined in a mocking voice, “I’m so hurt.”  
“Ah, fuck off, Trott.” Kim grinned in easy banter, plucking the last of the mammon from Trott with a wink. “Good luck with whatever shit you’re pulling.”  
“Thanks, later Kim!”  
“Later!”

Now that was done, all Trott now needed was his runic chalk ( _check_ he said, looking to his shelf where it sat), and 2 humans: 1 sacrifice and 1 dead, hollow human receptacle.   
“ _I can do that on the Earth plane”_ He thought, then he looked down at all the ingredients he had collected. It seemed unnecessary but the now infused 42 candles were a real clutter to his home.   
“Okay….so… ‘To initiate the ritual 5 runic magic circles must surround a pentagram of human blood. The sacrifices must be placed in stars outside the 4 circles in an adjacent square formation and the one to become an Absolute Immortal must be inside the centre pentagram’, okay, easy enough.” Trott mused, reading the book aloud. The candles were to enhance the runic power, not needed, but certainly wanted on Trott’s part.   
“Okay, I’ll put all my things in here like…this…” Trott mumbled, placing the items in his satchel. “Then I need 2 humans and I can create an immortal. Nice.”

When Trott transferred to the human realm, the earth beneath him scorched with fire and the air around him sizzled. He was in a small village, no, city – in a park.  
“First of all, human sacrifice.”  
Looking around though, it was in the dead of night and all he could see from where he was were lights in pubs and nightclubs.   
“ _I’ll easily find a sacrifice there.”_   He thought, then he set off walking. As he grew closer he saw a group of girls, visibly drunk and staggering around, laughing at seemingly nothing, for no reason. As he walked up to the girls he put on his most charming smile, used a cloaking charm on his horns, tail, and the various symbols on his skin, and shouted, “Hey!”  
“Oh hellllooo~ ahahaha!” Once giggled, the other 3 with her laughing along.  
“Look at this cutie pie, bet you’d take him huh Becca?”  
“No! Oh my _god_ shushhh!” The girl – supposedly Becca – said, comically putting a finger on her lips.  
“Well, ladies,” Trott husked darkly, “I need one of you.”  
“Ooh~ take me, I’ll give you _anything_ you want ya fine piece of dick.” A ginger haired girl said, well shouted, making the girls erupt into even more giggles.   
“We haven’t got all day love.” Trott whispered into her ear seductively, why ever humans were so obsessed with sex eluded him. Anyway, he was growing impatient so he grabbed her hand, almost roughly, and pulled her along. “Anyone else wanna join?”  
“Oooh I soo will!” The girl named Becca cried, and Trott smiled. He had his two humans he needed.   
“I’ll call youuu~”  
“By ‘melia!”  
“Later Becca!”  
“Have fun riding!”  
And then the giggles decapitated as Trott walked back to the park with the humans.   
“Where are we going? This isn’t…”  
“I’m going to use you as human sacrifices.” Trott said happily, almost laughing as the two tried to stop walking but were still dragged along by him.   
“What?”  
“Yeah, one of you needs to die, the other just need to be unconscious. Wanna choose or shall I make that decision.” Trott demanded, pulling them now into the woods of the park.   
“No, no! Help!”  The girls screamed, “You’re a maniac!” They writhed round trying to escape but with a sigh Trott turned, hit one girl over the head so she dropped to the ground with a dull _thump_ and he grabbed the other girl’s head, snapping her neck in one swift movement.  
“ _Fucking humans.”_ He thought with disgust, levitating both of them to follow him.   
He was about to turn out of the forest when he heard a loud growl, low and snarling. Mild curiosity overgrew him so he floated to where he could hear the sound and silently watched a human. Walking, then stopping and then a werewolf stepped out of the thick trees into the clearing that Trott was watching.   
“ _Fucking werewolves too, good for nothing._ ” He though, then he watched as the human – with surprising agility he must say – dodge the wolf and grab a branch but the wolf jumped and mauled the poor guy.  
“ _Shame._ ”  
The man screamed, but shoved the branch into the wolf’s mouth and with a little pity Trott raised his hand and with a little shadow magic pulled out a tooth from the animal then broke the thing’s jaw and slashed its neck so that the human had a chance to live. It was pity, but also because an idea crossed his mind.   
“ _I can make HIM immortal!”_  But looking now, the human had passed out. “ _Now or never, huh.”_  Trott thought, then he went into the clearing.   
“Okay, 5 runic circles…” Trott said aloud, moving the man’s body, “Pentagram in blood… 4 small pentagram stars with the 2 bottles and two humans…” And he moved them into position. “The candles…” He levitated the infused candles to line the innermost runic circles, lighting them with a click of his fingers.   
“Okay! That should be it, right?” He questioned, opening the book he had brought with him double checking everything he had done. “Wait the aspects. I’ll put them around the…inner circle?” He looked at the book for confirmation. “Yeah, right. Time to make an immortal fuck yeah!”  
“Stand inside the second ring, and recite the ritual once all elements are in place.”  
Trott cleared his throat a little, for flair of course, and recited:

“Ego te munere, mortalis,

Solo terrae huius regni,

Sanguine cordis mei sanguinem,

Spiritu tuo vestrum anima,

Veluti eludere etiam mortem re,

Expergiscimini, immortalibus”

The air around him whipped and crackled with dark shadows and the 4 sacrificial elements lifted from the ground, the aspects shimmered and wisped into the human man and the flames of the candles turned crimson red. Trott watched in awe as a bright white, glistening trail of fire moved from the first human sacrifice, connecting to the bottled darkness. The light then connected to the dead human sacrifice, to the bottled destruction, back to the first human. Then, they all dropped and the outermost runic circle lifted.   
“ _The…fuck?”_ Trott thought in surprise, “ _That’s never happened before.”_  
A loud crackling sound emitted from the runes, then they swirled around the man who Trott had found and as he levitated they sunk into him, or at least they did, Trott couldn’t see very well.  
Then everything dropped, leaving an eerie hush in the absence of magic and as Trott looked at the man, he smiled.

## An old dawn

Smith was stood by his mother’s grave.  
The air was damp, drizzly, and even the black umbrella covering him seemed to rain down on him. The grass was wet beneath his feet and the overcast, dark and grim sky seemed to cry with him as he looked down at the raised, moist earth where his mother was buried. The church, the funeral, all of it had blurred by and Smith couldn’t even speak as he watched people’s lips move – no words he could hear only the roaring in his ears and the pain in his chest only enhanced by the trance of his mind. Some people hugged him, some apologised for his loss, people reassured him they were always there for him but the one he wanted most in his life was now gone, her existence wiped out in a moment of cruel selfishness that filled him with _so much rage.  
_ However, now wasn’t a time of anger.   
As Smith gazed upon her grave, he looked at the small mounds in the earth where he had planted seeds for her, things he knew would help her. Pink roses first, by the edges of her grave, for his adoration and appreciation for her. It was important that he planted these first, for why – he didn’t fully know. Dahlias placed by the headstone, for her dignity and her elegance. Rosemary by where her chest was to give her strength and protection in the afterlife. He had placed white Carnations by all four corners to create a seal of remembrance and then filled the gaps with Iris to show how much she inspired those around her.  
And then he sat by her feet, just looking at the words engraved on the stone in front of him but not taking them in.   
He didn’t know how long he stayed there ( _probably too long_ ) but soon it grew dark and colder so he walked to their house ( _It feels so cold. Empty. I’m alone_.) He collapsed onto his bed.   
Staring at the ceiling, “ _What do I do now?”_  
“Be a good witch, study, help others always, okay?” She had said…how could he do possibly do that without her? ( _Come back please. Please. Please_.)  
A tear -  single, lone tear – smeared his view.   
Sighing, he turned in his bed and curled up, body shaking as quiet sobs resonated through him. The fact she wasn’t there to hold him - to help him - to make everything better – it _hurt_. His heart ached, his mind was blurred and staying felt like betraying her and everything she worked for. ( _I need you.)_  
He would decide on something in the morning.  
( _I love you.)_

Alex woke to the sound of birds chirping, though it sounded far away and morose. He stayed in bed for a while, just a little while, and with a sigh crawled from the covers to get up. The police were looking for the attacker, had bloods from the scene, but the most Alex wanted to do was to leave. Not forget, never could he forget his own mother, but just to go to a different place that didn’t pain him. ( _I touched her blood. I saw her die. It was my fault._ )  
But, first things first. He made a mental list. Eat. Brush teeth. Wash. Get dressed. ( _So quiet.)_  
So he did just that, not tasting the toast, so brushing for as long as he should have, staying in the shower so long that his skin wrinkled and even then he sat and stopped thinking. He got dressed in a plain shirt and jeans, tugged on the brown Timberlands his mother had got him, a small gift, given to him with one of her winning smiles. ( _The last smile.)_ Then he set to work.  
1) Gather all books.   
2) Gift leftover oils and plants to neighbours.   
3) Collect useful plants, tools, and ingredients.  
4) Pack up clothes and other items.   
5) Drive.

And that was it. _(I need to be..._ ) It took a little longer than he had thought it would, there were 3 large boxes worth of books he loaded into his car - the neighbours were thankful for the last of his mother’s oils. Alex asked one of his mum’s friends to tend to the flowers on the grave (she tearfully agreed and wish him the best.) Packing up his own tools and bedroom was a little harder and he had to sleep again ( _Why start. Why stop._ )Many hours of working to move things ( _Just the same thing, over and over - and over and over and over-_ ), the new morning even more painful than the last. But, finally, he had every plant he’d need, every tool, most of his room and one last thing. ( _Why am I doing this-_ )  
The green althea pendant on the silver chain; ( _Green…_ ) an intricate emerald with a thousand facets that shimmered in the dusty sunlight and the silver bracelet with various gem flowers on that he vowed to find out every meaning of. He wore them with pride.  
Then, stepping out of the house for the last time, he left it in the care of the new tenants.  
( _I’m sorry-So sorry-_ )  
And he drove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to convey Alex's emotion more with erratic punctuation, I hope it worked well! If not, could you suggest why or maybe give me some pointers? <3 ~


	3. Morality?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Witch and the Demon meet. Is morality how one escapes death, or the death of their principles?

## Morality

Ross awoke to an unfamiliar, sandy white, and very modern bedroom. The sheets of the bed he was lying in where stiff and cold around him. He had really thought in the forest he was dead for sure.  
With a small groan Ross lifted himself out of bed, his head spinning a little as he sat up. Looking around he saw that the bedroom had a huge wall length window – there was a stream nearby with a dense forest on the other side and the sun was just starting to rise. The second thing he noticed was a weird scarred pattern on his arms, strange symbols that seemed to have an eerie black or ashy tinge to them. Now, utterly freaked out, Ross stood and was happy to note he at least had tracksuit bottoms on, if ever they looked stupid. He didn’t have a top on though, and a quick look in a vanity mirror on the set of drawers near the door showed more of the strange symbols on his back and even more startling – his eyes. Walking to the mirror a wave of nausea flowed over him as he looked at his eyes.  
His left eye was completely black, “ _Like coal…_ ” and inside the circle of black was a silver mark that seemed to glow against the darkness. It was a circle, presumably marking his pupil, with a strike down the middle.  
His right eye was even more disturbing. His light, electric blue eye colour was still there but around the iris was a black ring with the same symbols on his chest… _moving_ …around, on the edge of his pupil the same marks where there but were a silvery ash colour. One of the marks was purple.   
“Holy fuck…” Ross breathed, his hands shaking a little as he blinked and looked at them, dumbfounded.  
Looking more closely at his face showed stubble, almost a beard, which meant he had been out 2, maybe three days. His skin was pretty dirty but Ross threw that thought aside as he moved from the bedroom the see where the _hell_ he was.  
He slowly opened the bedroom door, “ _Thank_ God _it doesn’t creak.”_ And he walked slowly out of the room.  
He stopped when he saw a man sat on the sofa, _floating_ of all things – with horns and a tail.   
“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good.”  
“Who the _fuck_ are you? What have you done with me?” Ross demanded, walking more out of the room. There was already some freaky shit going on with him, whatever came next shouldn’t probably surprise him.   
“My name is Christopher Trott. I’m a demon, a pretty good one so watch it – and I made you immortal.”  
“…What?”  
The demon sighed and rolled his eyes, “My name is-”  
“No, no, I got all that. I mean, ‘I made you immortal’.” Ross corrected, a scowl passing his face as Christopher stood up.   
“Well, you looked like you were dying – got hit by that Lycan, huh? I was looking to make someone immortal, congrats, it was you. However, I think I did it a little…wrong.” He explained, floater closer to Ross who backed away, hands up.   
“What do you mean, you did it wrong?”  
Christopher stopped coming closer. “God, what is it with you and fucking questions. Something went wrong, I don’t know what, so I’m keeping you here until I find out what exactly happened.”  
“Oh, it’s not like I had a life, a job, my bank – I have to pay bills and taxes and-”  
“All sorted, sunshine. As far as any services are concerned, you’re living with me and that’s all there is too it.”  
“But- wha-you’re a demon you can’t just buy a _house_ I mean-how do you _know_ who I am – I-” Ross stuttered, frowning as the demon glared at him.   
“I know lots of things. Also, I’m allowed to do human things, you know, being a demon doesn’t stop me from living in this plane. If anything I like it here more, much calmer than Hell.” He huffed, crossing his arms.   
“Okay, okay. I get it. So how long do I have to stay?” Ross said, defeated.   
“Forever.”  
“Forever.” Ross blinked, the words not fully sinking in.   
“Yes, until you die. But you won’t. You’re immortal. Good thing I’m immortal too, huh?” Chris said with a wink, but ultimately Ross just groaned.   
“I’m going to shower then. I hope I have some of my own clothes…” He grumbled and he sighed as he heard Chris happily shout, ‘Nope!’  
“Well, fuck.”

 

Ross grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard on his way to bathroom (both of which he had to find on his own, much to Chris’s delight) and half-smiled in relief as he leaned against the door which, on second thoughts, he locked.   
A little fumble with the shower got it working, the steam starting to cloud the room in an almost blissful fog. Ross didn’t turn the temperature down, though he should’ve, but it didn’t hurt and only felt pleasantly warm. He was pretty glad that Chris had stocked the bathroom and he took a spare sponge from the small drawers by the sink and began to wash away all the mud stuck to his skin. It took a bit of doing, the stuff had dried on, and he even found a few twigs in his hair, but in the end he just sat on the floor of the shower and leant back on the wall, his eyes closing as the water soothed him.  
“Relaxing, huh?” A low voice said, and Ross’s eyes snapped open in shock.   
“Arghh!”  
“What?”  
“What the fuck? How the fuck!” Ross shouted, looking up at the demon who was floating above him in the shower. “Have you ever heard of privacy? How did you even get _in_ here?” Ross had snapped his legs to his chest in an attempt to cover himself which only seemed to humour the demon.   
“I can teleport. I wonder why you were taking so long, it’s been nearly two hours you know.”  
“It can’t have been.” Ross gasped, “No way.”  
“Yeah, time gets fucked up I should know – wasn’t always immortal.”  
“Well, that’s great and all but let’s save the reminiscing for later – please leave.”  
“Awww, you even have a great body.”  
“Don’t you think- what?”  
“Pretty good looking if you ask me, with your pretty little blue eye.”  
“Well, I mean –I’m not really, I uhh…thanks?” Ross stammered. His nakedness wasn’t helping his embarrassment.   
“Hmm…well, I don’t mind if you stay in the shower for longer. Water bills technically don’t…exist here.” Chris said, and with that he disappeared. He left a few bits of wispy smoke and a symbol behind but they quickly decapitated before Ross could really remember the shape.   
“ _Pretty blue eye…what exactly is fucking happening?”  
_ Also, something else weighed heavy on his mind, “ _Yet_ another _thing on the ever growing list of shit I don’t wanna deal with…”_ The demon had said ‘Lycan’. Whatever that was, Ross didn’t think it sounded very good.  
With a small sigh he stood up and flicked the shower off and wrapped the towel around his waist. Looking in the bathroom mirror, however slightly steamed (and now dripping with water) Ross could get a better look at himself.   
His skin seemed…lighter? “ _If that was even possible.”_ He thought with a small huff. His face seemed…sharper? No, more defined. He felt a bit taller too,   
“You know, I could get you some new clothes, a better fashion sense would do you good.” Chris’s voice was muffled, but Ross could _hear_ the smirk in his voice.  
He rolled his eyes but a little grin wormed its way onto his face. Still. “Fuck off!”  
“That’s no way to treat your host!”  
“You made me immortal!”  
“I saved your life!”  
“Well, when you put it like that,” Ross said, opening the door to where Chris was stood leaning against the frame, shirtless. “Thank you.” It was a pretty good sight, Ross had to admit.  
As Ross walked past him, Chris took hold of his wrist.   
“Hey, I was kinda…joking earlier. If you want to go back to your own life…I won’t stop you.”   
Ross stepped back and leant down a little, droplets of water dripping from his hair. “Now I’ve met you…” He licked his lips and stared into the demon’s eyes. “I don’t think I wanna go back.”

With not a lot to do and no need for a job, Ross was feeling pretty bored. He had already whined to Chris about it, and in turn he had gotten the demon to bring him some books, take him to his old flat to pick up some personal stuff, and, at the demon’s request, a few bits of gym equipment.   
“Gotta keep fit you know.” Chris had said as Ross had looked at the dumbbells and mats warily.   
“Oh? What do you do for fitness?”  
“I kill things that need killing.”  
“Of course you do.”  
But Ross was thankful for the distraction and settled into a routine quickly, easily making up a routine that would push up his stamina more than overall muscle. Unfortunately, that meant a lot of running so instead of staying inside on the treadmill he ran outside instead, mapping the area. It was a lot easier than he had imagined, he could almost _smell_ where home now was, and it was a pretty familiar scent – like vanilla and blood. It felt comforting but for why he didn’t really know.  
He had woken up earlier that morning so he could run for longer during the day, making sure to take a backpack with some food and plenty of water in. Chris had told him the night before he had some things to do back in _literal_ Hell – “ _Hell!”_ and also to just call him Trott. That one might take some getting used to but it was a lot less formal than ‘Chris’ so Ross thought he could compromise.  
The steady rhythm of his footfalls in the forest was pretty calming and if anything he had never really felt better but he always stayed by the edge of the forest now, always with the, well, looking at it Ross couldn’t call it anything other than a mansion. He slowed for a bit, looking across the shallow stream and decided to cut his run short. He could have a lazy day if he wanted and if anything he felt he needed it. Trott had explained how he did the ritual and what he _thought_ had happened to Ross but it was all so…overwhelming.  
The water only just came above his ankles and was safe, heck he was _immortal_ , so he walked across and climbed up some of the low rocks until he could walk around back into the mansion.  
Without a second thought he flopped onto the sofa and slept.

 

“Ross? Ross…”  
“Hmm?”  
“Yeah, wake up.”  
“What time is it?” Ross slurred, still half asleep.   
“It’s 7.49PM”  
“Why can’t I sleep Trott?”  
“I don’t think – I do think, I think I know –why-”  
“Stop stuttering, calm down, what is it?” Ross asked, fully waking up and looking at Trott who was starting excitedly at him.   
“I know why the ritual was weird!”  
“Well, go on.”  
“It’s because you aren’t human!”  
Ross blinked, “Not human?”  
Realisation dawned on Trott’s face as he look at Ross. “You don’t know about…the Lycan thing…that, in the woods…wasn’t a fight?”  
“In the woods? That was a huge fucking wolf attacking me!” Ross exclaimed while backing away from Trott, now extremely worried. “What’s…back up a sec. First of all, what the fuck is a Lycan?”  
Trott shifted on his feet. Reluctantly, he said, “It’s the name for a werewolf.”  
“A werewolf.” Ross repeated, slightly stunned and a little spaced out.   
“Does that mean…?”  
“The ritual was meant for use on a human…you’re not a human.” Trott nodded, looking almost guilty.   
“I’m a…a werewolf.”  
“Yes.” Trott confirmed.   
“This is not fucking happening.” Ross gasped, his breath heavy in his chest.   
“It didn’t even register with me when I watched you get mauled-”  
“You watched me?!” Ross shouted, “You watched and you did _nothing?!”_  
“Look, Ross, I didn’t mean to-” Trott protested,   
“Didn’t mean to – to what? To watch as I was being killed by a werewolf? Did you not think to, I dunno, stop it?” Ross yelled, turning his back.   
“I’m a demon! You think I care about people?” Trott asked incredulously.  
Ross turned around, deadpan. “No, I’d have at least thought you’d have a conscience.”   
Then he went into his room, slamming the door so he could rest against it, his heart pumping in his chest like a hammer.   
He held his head in his hands and for the first time in a long time, Ross wept.

 

Trott looked at the worn pages of his rituals book. Yeah, okay, the immortal one hadn’t gone so well but the guy he’d turned immortal was a pretty nice one and above all he was a Lycan. The responsibility wasn’t crushing but Ross’s words had sunk in pretty deep. Did a demon even have a conscience? Sat alone contemplating his existence and if he had a conscience or not wasn’t how Trott wanted to spend his day, but it was worth thinking about. He slammed the book closed and picked up another, immediately opening to the contents page of his ‘Blood Magic: Rites and Ceremonies’ but if he didn’t have a conscience it would be easy to just find someone and use them in a blood magic ritual – he had done that with Ross’s ritual, but something held him back. Instead, Trott decided to go take a look at the day’s list of reapings, get paid, then go back to Ross to apologise. He felt he needed to – no, wanted to. He didn’t like the thought of Ross being upset so maybe he did have a conscience after all.  
Ha walked to the local pin board of reapings and looked at the still large list of people who needed to die, names fading out and ink flaking as some other demon somewhere took a name from the universal board of death.  
Many were now claimed for the day, but one dark inked name of ‘Alex Smith’ was left so Trott looked at it, shrugged, and placed his mark by it to claim that soul. A quick locator search, a teleport glyph, and Trott was invisible and in the same room as ‘Alex Smith’. Maybe he could take his anger out on him.  
The man was tall and had lightly tanned skin, had a messy but styled brownish ginger hair style, had light and pretty attractive stubble and was dressed pretty casually but what interested Trott more was that Alex Smith had drawn a circle with salt – “ _Fucking great_ ” –, placed 7 different flowers on the floor inside the circle, and was holding some crystals. Trott didn’t recognise them, but Alex Smith was now chanting and walking around the inside of the salt circle with the crystals, placing one crystal at a flower each time he passed one.  
He then sat down in the middle of the circle, crossed legs, and closed his eyes. Trott wondered with mild curiosity how he was supposed to kill Alex Smith, then he saw a lit candle on the dresser.   
“ _Could burn him I guess, wouldn’t be much fun though.”  
_ “I can sense you, demon.”   
Trott looked up quickly at Alex who was still sat down. Then slowly, he said, “It’s a good thing you’re in that circle then eh?” Trott glared at the salt lines. _‘Fuck that circle.’_  
“Hmm. What business do you want?”   
Trott contemplated his answer, then he had an idea. He made himself visible but with his human cloak charm and floated to sit in front of Alex Smith outside the circle. “Do you think I have a conscience?”  
Alex flicked his eyes open and Trott saw they were a startlingly clear, deep blue. They almost seemed like the crystals the man was holding. “A conscience? Why do you ask?”   
“I…It’s a very complicated situation, I’ll have to admit.” Trott said, tilting his head to the side as he watched the man look at him.   
“Well, do you care about people? Do you want to keep people safe and happy?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“Some people yes, some people not at all.” Trott replied carefully.   
“I guess you have a conscience then. Why did you ask me in particular though? I didn’t summon you.”   
“Yeah, I’m supposed to take your soul and stuff but…”  
“But?” The man asked, a calm look in his eyes.   
“If I have a conscience how could I kill such a good looking person like you?”   
The man smirked and leant forwards. “First you want to kill me, then you want to get into my pants. How randy.”   
Trott too leant forwards, then he proposed an idea which surprised even himself. “I’ll take you off the reaping list, you live with me, and I get to practise a few things with you.”   
“You want to experiment on me? How fucking amazing, coming from a demon.” The man exclaimed angrily, frowning.   
“For a witch who is _safely_ inside a salt circle you’re talking pretty confident.” Trott growled, standing up to float. His legs hurt from sitting crossed leg, flexibility wasn’t his thing and he could feel a slight tingle from how close he was getting to that damn salt.   
“For a demon who gets angry when he doesn’t get his own way you’re acting pretty childish. Besides, you want to kill me for my soul so why should I trust you?”   
“Wait – you’re a witch!” Trott said, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it earlier!   
“Well, yes, I just said-”   
“No, I mean, yes- just, the reason I asked about having a conscience was because someone said I didn’t have one and that someone is – was a human who I tried to turn immortal but he was bitten by a werewolf and he didn’t know until I told him!” Trott said excitedly, smiling at Alex who looked at him with an unimpressed scowl.   
“And?” Alex demanded, crossing his arms.   
“Can you, well, take care of him? Educate him about the moon and stuff, you can make like a potion that’ll stop him turning or give him control or-”   
“So. You interrupt my charm. You tell me you want to kill me. You then try to get in my pants and then you try to blackmail me so I’ll be a test subject and now you’re demanding I take care of _your_ mistake. I can see why the Lycan accused you of not having a conscience.” Alex said bitterly, scowling at Trott.   
“I…don’t know what to say.”   
“Maybe, “I’m sorry.” Is a good place to start, but right now it’ll mean shit all. We’ll compromise. You take me of the list of killing and I’ll live with you and your Lycan friend. It’s the only good choice I have right now, so is that a deal?”   
“I…” With a small sigh Trott looked at Alex. “Deal. I’ll go pull in some favours, a life for a life and all, you pack up whatever you need I’ll be back soon.” Trott said, watching as Alex stood up.   
“Okay. But if I find out that you’ve not followed through I’m going to curse the ever-living _shit_ out of you got it?”   
That brought a small smile to Trott’s lips as he looked at Alex. “Sure, sure. And hey,” He said with a wink before he went back to Hell, “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more chapters written out, planned from when this was written, but I don't ship these 3 much more. Needles to say, I will finish this story to the best of my ability.  
> Thank you to all those who left kudos, bookmarks, comments and subscriptions. It means so much to me that you listen to the words I have to give. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters will be added but updates will not be regular.


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